Smirk
by DreamTailor
Summary: That terrible half smile that twisted the right side of his face boiled my blood. How dare he smile in the face of death?" The death and revenge of Ezio's father through a Templar's eyes. M for gore and sensitive themes.


Title: Smirk

Summary: "That terrible half smile that twisted the right side of his face boiled my blood. How dare he smile in the face of death?" The death and revenge of Ezio's father through a Templar's eyes.

Disclaimer: Ezio & Giovanni belong to Ubisoft. The rest of the characters are mine :p

Smirk

I looked out my office window in to the pale moonlit night. Three stories down, I watched silently as the light reflected and rippled across the waters of the Grand Canal, casting shape shifting illuminations upon the stone walls that encased the waters. The streets were empty, devoid of any life. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Thinking nothing more of it, I turned back to my desk, which was placed in front of a gothic style window. I shuffled through the papers that covered most of my desk, trying to find the envelope that I had received earlier that day. The moonlight behind me was not strong enough though, so I lit a candle to help aid me in my search. Finally my fingers found the envelope. It was thin and stamped with a seal in red wax. The seal was a cross, the symbol of my people, and below the cross was a drawn triangle, which meant that the information inside was urgent.

With slightly trembling fingers I broke the wax seal and pulled out the single piece of paper inside. It read.

_Marco,_

_Raffaele has been murdered. He is the third of the six that were involved with the death of Giovanni Auditore to die. Be careful, the killer is after us._

_God rest you,_

_Vincente._

So Raffaele was gone. He along with Alphonso and Carlo had been killed within the week. Only Vincente, Marcello, and I remained now. It wasn't surprising that someone was trying to avenge Giovanni's death.

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It was around a month ago that my brothers and I had uncovered the truth about Giovanni. He was a nobleman who ran a bank in the subdivision of Santa Croce; a primary figure, to say the least. Many of my people did business with him, and in some extremities were acquaintances. That is, until we found out the truth.

One of my brothers came to me with a small lead bullet found on Giovanni's desk. Engraved on the bullet was a small symbol. I couldn't believe my eyes when I beheld the famous Hashashin 'A'. The Hashashin and the Templar's lead a long history of violence and war, which continued to the very day. The Hashashin had been our foes for years. They murdered our finest soldiers with their sneaky ways and tried to overthrow our plans for peace. They would be the destruction of mankind.

Upon discovering Giovanni's true alliances, my brothers and I were compelled to act. There was no sympathy, no regret, we threw away all connections and friendships with him and did not care to look back. He was an enemy, a cut-throat, nothing more, nothing less.

It was late on the night that the six of us stormed Giovanni's mansion without warning. We had caught him by surprise, and he was quickly subdued. Carlo and Vincente held his wife and daughter while it took both Marcello and Alphonso to restrain his son.

I held down Giovanni, who struggled violently, but my grip was like chains that wrapped around the demon, fuelled by hate. I entangled my hand in his brown curls and wrenched his head back. Raffaele had the honour of delivering the final blow. He raised a silver hand gun and dug the barrel into Giovanni's brow.

Giovanni only smirked. That famous little smirk of his, so smug and so aloof, was mocking us. Mocking _ME!_ That terrible half smile that twisted the right side of his face boiled my blood. How dare he smile in the face of death?

Raffaele savoured the moment before pulling the trigger. A loud, ear piercing bang filled the house and blood and brains splattered the walls. The two girls screamed and wailed and his son stood stiff as a board. I let go as Giovanni fell lifelessly to the floor, blood speckling my face and clothing. I looked down at the body, his life staining the floor, and upon his face the smirk was frozen forever.

We dragged the women and the boy out of the house, throwing them to the grass. The others had made quick work of setting the mansion on fire, a pillar of smoke rising high into the clouds, obscuring the large orange moon. Windows shattered from the intense heat; glass sprinkled the ground and sparks exploded from the roof. They were like fireworks, celebrating our victory.

The two ladies would live, for they were merely women, insignificant objects of Giovanni's that could be toyed with later. His son, however, was the demon's spawn. He had the Hashashin blood running in his veins, and I couldn't risk letting him go. He had to be destroyed.

I unsheathed my sword, the red light of the fire glinted of its edges. It thirsted for blood. I raised it above my head as I gazed into the young man's terrified eyes and brought it down swiftly. A sharp pain hit the side of my head and I stumbled back, the sword's tip slashing the boy's face. A long, ugly gash split the left half of his face from his nostril to his chin. He cupped the open wound as blood trickled down his chin and stained his front. I looked over to the direction of the object that hit me. The younger woman had thrown a fist sized rock. I touched my cheek tenderly, wincing in pain at the swollen, bruised skin. I vowed to beat her within an inch of her life after I had dealt with Giovanni's son.

Giovanni's wife screamed for the boy to run, which after a moment's hesitation, he did. _Pitiful little coward,_ I thought. Carlo and Vincente took off in pursuit of him, whilst the remaining members of my party turned thier attention back to the girls. Our plans though, were interrupted by the far off cries and candles lighting in windows. People were coming and we had to get away.

Walking swiftly to the younger woman, I backhanded her for her insolence, grabbing her face between my thumb and forefinger before she hit the ground. Shaking her, I whispered menacingly, "This will not be the last time we meet."

I threw her again to the lawn and stalked off, the flickering shadows of the flames on the building walls forever etched into my mind.

It began to rain, a slow, steady rain. From my window I watched as the distant glow died down and the cloud of smoke settled over the area. It was early that morning when Carlo and Vincente returned, empty handed disappointingly. They had followed the boy until he had disappeared, for he knew the area better than they. After they had lost him, Carlo and Vincente followed the trail of blood until it had washed away from the rain.

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No doubt that the brotherhood had heard of Giovanni's death, so I could only assume that it was they who picked off my men, one by one. It was a grim though, but I could only wonder when one would show up at my door with a loaded gun.

I found it hard to sleep that night, instead filing papers on my desk or pacing uneasily in front of the window. The candle on my desk was a mere stub when the first rays of broke over the tops of the tall Firenze buildings. My wife awoke and found me in my office room, starring out the window.

"Why did you not come to bed?" she questioned. I looked to her, thinking of a reply.

"Are you ill?" She moved like a cat and placed her fingers upon my brow. Before my eyes, her slender fingers morphed into the barrel of a gun and Giovanni's smirk flashed across my mind.

"No," I breathed, stepping away from her touch. "I am just uneasy."

"About what, may I ask?"

"I'm not sure myself."

I descended the stairs with her to the lounge, the smell of breakfast filling my nose. I sat down to dine with my wife.

I heard footsteps walking quickly toward the room and turned to meet the face of my son, Elia. He was a good natured boy, always happy with a spring in his step. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat with us. Elia was home for the summer from the University of Bologna, which resided in the province of the same name bordering Firenze.

"Good morning father," he said casually through a mouthful of bread. I thought I had taught him better manners than that. "What were you doing tromping around upstairs all night?" he continued. I gave no reply and just chuckled. I was surprised at the attitude change he had since leaving for university.

He huffed and continued eating.

A week had passed since I received the letter, and no new ones had come. The situation soon slipped my mind and I was finally able to sleep at night. My life became tranquil once more, and I spent time more time with my son, for I had not seen him for a very long time.

"How is university?" I asked as we strolled down the street together.

"Good, my grades are up since last year," he said.

"What were you going to be again?" I questioned.

"For the hundredth time, father, a scholar."

"I'm just teasing, you," I laughed, lightly punching his shoulder. "I can never understand why you don't join me with the Templar's." Elia rolled his eyes.

I had been pestering him to join with the Templar soldiers since he was sixteen, but he always rejected the idea. He seemed more content shoving his nose into books rather than holding a sword. Must've come from his mother...

The next day had passed slowly for me, work was tougher and papers kept piling upon my desk. I walked wearily home alone, for my son had decided to visit old friends for the day. Night swallowed up the last of the light as I opened the door to my house, shutting it quietly, for my wife was already in bed. I climbed to stairs to my office. A cool breeze tickled the back of my neck, so I shut the window. Sitting down at my desk, I lit a candle to begin my work.

On top of a stack of papers lay a small, thin envelope with a red seal. My heart skipped a beat as I picked it up.

The seal was not a cross, but a thin 'A'.

I looked up hastily. A flash of white caught my eyes as the candle was abruptly put out. I gasped and stumbled backwards, tripping over my chair and crashing to the ground. I got up quickly, searching the dark room.

There was another flash of white to my left. I turned swiftly drawing my sword, body pumping with adrenaline. Something hard hit my back and fell to the floor, shattering. I frantically turned, only to see another flash of white. Again the whiteness caught my eye and I turned towards it, only to face the window overlooking Florence. A flash of lightning ripped open the heavens.

The white flashes were just lightning. I sighed, letting myself calm down. _Then what hit me? _I looked to a cabinet that lay slightly askew and recognized the shattered vase on the ground. I must have bumped into it in my panic.

Sighing I crouched down to collect the pieces. It was dark in the room. _Right,_ I remembered_, the candle blew out, probably from the open window..._

That's when I froze.

I had shut the window. The window that I never opened in the first place.

Slowly I turned my head to look over my shoulder. My eyes wandered up a pair of dark leather boots to an embroidered white cloth, then to a red sash with a strange looking 'A' on it. My eyes skipped the rest of the body and shot up to the white-hooded face, concealed in the shadows. I dropped the pieces of glass.

The figure shot forward quickly, steel flashing from his wrist. I rolled out of the way and dashed to the door. I had to get to an open space; the room was too small and cramped, giving me the disadvantage. I sprinted down the hall and nearly jumped the entire staircase. I could hear the hooded man behind me. I pushed my body to go faster.

Reaching the brass doorknobs I twisted them sharply and pushed them out, a wave of fresh night time air hitting me. As soon as my foot touched the grass I turned to face the man. He was not behind me. The doors were still open, and I peered into the dark hallway. Nothing.

Silence.

A sharp creak from the gate at the entrance of the house made me turn swiftly and I raised my sword high, crying sharply into the night ready to bring it down on the hooded man.

I stopped the sword inches above my son's head. He had returned from his friend's house. Elia looked up at me, wide-eyed and confused.

"F...ather...?"

I dropped the sword as though the hilt was white hot, starring at my hands. I had almost killed my own son... I had almost...

I back away from Elia...

...and into the hooded man.

Cold fingers wrapped around my neck as I was forced to my knees. I grasped at the steely grip desperately, trying to break the crushing hold.

"Father!" Elia screamed, petrified.

My eyes wandered up to the Hashashin's face, the moon light revealing his features.

I traced the scar that ran from his nose to his chin.

"You..." I gasped.

The left, unscarred, side of his face twisted into a smirk. The smirk was exactly like his fathers. Giovanni's son tilted his head towards my own son. Now I realized the irony of the situation.

I had murdered his father before his very eyes, and now, he was going to murder me in front of my son.

He had not spoken a word, but I was instantly filled with a maelstrom of emotions. Now I understood. Now I know how it felt. I was filled with fear not only for myself, but for my son. My son was going to watch me die. _And after I am dead, will he go after Elia, like I did to him_? I could only imagine the emotions Elia was going through. He stood unmoving, in shock. I was going to die and he could do nothing to stop it.

Just like Giovanni's son.

Now I understand.

He raised his palm to my forehead and pressed a silver barrel into my skull. Releasing his grip around my neck his fingers wandered to the trigger, savouring the moment.

I felt nothing as he pulled the trigger, nothing as the bullet pierced my skull and buried into my brain, nothing as my blood filled my vision.

All I could do was smirk.

What was Giovanni so damn happy about anyway?

Authors Note: First time writing first person, I hope I did well. This was originally a one shot, though I may continue on with Marco's son. Hope everyone enjoys!


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